


Aim

by hakura0



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:32:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8162189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakura0/pseuds/hakura0
Summary: Billy gets hurt, and Goodnight reigns down a little slice of hell under a mask of amiability.





	

The day is warm instead of ungodly hot for once, and Goodnight looks over the corral from what's taken to be his usual perch for these sort of things. A section of fence just far enough away from the crowd that if he winces at the sound of the shots no one's going to see it. 

It helps that it's also the best way to keep track of any men who might, say, make a bet and slip away once they realize it was a damn mistake to bet against Billy Rocks. There'd been one or two, over the years.

Unless someone was dumber than a sack of bricks, or twice as hateful they tended not to bet against Billy a third time. 

Goodnight liked to watch the looks on their faces almost as much as he liked to watch Billy work.

It had been a long night, the night before. Lousy with noises from animals of all sorts. He'd slept some, mostly thanks to Billy. But he'd stirred at some point, laid there the rest of the night just listening, not wanting to move and disturb him.

Judging by the strength of the coffee that morning, Billy'd known anyway. The man was almost supernatural sometimes. Goodnight looked over to where he was standing, and fought down the rush of affection. There was no sense grinning like a loon in front of this lot.

Eventually the man running the show gives the word, and Goodnight braces himself for the sky-splitting cracks of thunder as Billy and his opponent take a shot at their targets.

He was on his feet barely a moment after he saw Billy stagger. There was some laughter from the stands, and it was clear their impression was that Billy couldn't even handle his gun's recoil. Now that was a tall tale if he'd ever heard one.

The crowd's quieter in the few seconds it takes for Goodnight to get to the others, and on the way he notices the hole in Billy's sleeve, crimson showing through. Their eyes met for a moment, and Billy gave the barest of nods to try to say he was alright. He gave him a clap on the other shoulder but nothing else, fighting off instincts that were easier to ignore than the blood boiling in his veins.

"Now," Goodnight started, his voice too damned amiable if he said so himself, but laced with threat as he faced Billy's opponent. "Way I see it one of two things just happened here. Either you are the worst damn shot I have ever seen, or this was some kind of hate or spite full act and you're a pretty awful shot on top of it. Which is it?"

Now there were whispers in the crowd again, mostly his own name, and he looked on more patiently that he felt as the man in front of him stared like a scared deer.

"Mr. Robicheaux, I didn't mean to, I wasn't trying to aim for him-"

"That's all I needed to hear." There was something this side of terrifying about Goodnight's smile, or maybe just something that was underneath it. He glances behind him, back to where Billy was still standing stock still. "Billy Rocks, do you want a proper duel with this man? I think everyone here'd agree your owed one, if it's what you're after."

Billy shakes his head no, just enough to be seen, and Goodnight looked back to the others, especially the man in front of him.

"Today's your lucky day. So let's talk business. You shot my man in the middle of a little friendly competition, and amends have got to be made. To start with I don't reckon anyone here trusts you with that gun of yours. Why don't you just give that to me, along with any other firearms you might have on your person."

He waits as the man does just that, holding out his hand for the gun. It felt like a good gun in his hand, a good weight.

"Now, someone ought to get that shot out of him, and the way I see it I didn't shoot him and he sure as hell didn't shoot himself, so you're going to take a walk with us down to your town's doctor and pay for him to be patched up proper. After that you can see about getting him a new shirt, on account of the hole and blood in this one. I think that sounds fair to me - does that sound fair to you?"

There was mumbling from the crowd, not loud enough for him to make out their opinions one way or another. The man nods, still looking like he expects a bullet in his head.

"Now, sir?" Goodnight turns his attention to the officiator. "You never did call the winner of that little quick draw."

"Billy Rocks," The officiator answers, and he gives a quick nod of approval.

"I'd appreciate it if you could gather up what's due and swing on by while my man gets patched up." Goodnight tells him, no real question in the words despite the impression of one. After the officiator agrees they head down the street to the little office, Goodnight meeting Billy's eyes again, noting the way his face was slightly drawn, just this side of pale. He nods though, again, and Billy nods back.

The doctor works fast and the bullet comes out easy. Both of them had handled worse before, but in this case it was the principle of the thing, and Goodnight was glad that Billy'd caught on to that. About half way through the officiator comes in with their winnings and Goodnight thanks him before setting him on his way.

By the time the doctor was done, Billy looked well enough at least to manage their shopping trip. He's even the one who reaches out and shakes the other man's hand before they part, eyes meeting, and voice beyond flat as he tells him, "You should look into other work."

It took all that Goodnight had in him to wait until he was gone to start laughing at the look that had been on the man's face. He was over it by the time they were actually alone.

His hand was on the side of Billy's face almost as soon as the door was closed. Billy made a sound in his throat that was almost a chuckle, reaching up to touch his wrist with just a hint of a smile.

"I'm alright, Goody," Billy keeps the smile through the kiss that comes a moment later, closing his eyes for the duration, and taking hold of Goodnight's coat just in case. "But I would like to sit down."

Goodnight pulls back obediently, concern crossing his features now that he felt safe enough to let it. "I still don't know how that son-of-a-bitch thought he belonged anywhere near a quick draw. He didn't even hit you on the side he was aiming closest to, if the bumbling fool'd been any better a shot he would've got you clear in the chest." He was ranting, but it was something that they were both this side of used to. It was a good way to relieve stress, even as he angrily undressed, and Billy watched with a fond sort of amusement as he worked his own clothes off the best he could without irritating the wound.

"I'm surprised you didn't have him pay for our room," Billy tells him, slow and easy, and Goodnight turns to look at him, half- startled and shirtless.

"Should've done more than that," Goodnight tells him, tone darker than he had been a moment before.

"Goody," Billy says, soft, prompting Goodnight to look at him again so he could catch his eyes. He raises his brow slightly, silently urging him to realize the joke, and Goodnight curses.

"Hell, anyone ever tell you your poker face is too damn good, Billy Rocks?" His laugh isn't quite as bright as it could have been but Billy sees it as a victory over the dark hole his lover had seemed about to slip into. 

"You, only every time we play cards," Billy answers with obvious amusement and a grin.

Goodnight helped him take off his boots over more idle chatter, Billy trying his hardest not to laugh to keep from aggravating his new future scar. They had drinks, before finally laying down, after Goodnight had taken a look at the bandage and deemed it good enough for the night. After they had triple-checked the lock on the door.

"I'll get some grub, once we've closed our eyes a while," Goodnight promises, his arms wrapped around Billy's chest, holding him as close as the two could manage while still being comfortable. He breathes in Billy's neck, the scent of sweat and dirt and blood and antiseptic, leather and a splash of smoke and whiskey.

"Stop thinking," Billy tells him, before he has a chance to start. He takes another breath and kisses the skin closest to him in a mock apology.

"...I still should have shot him for you," Goodnight says, as they start to drift off. The reason why he hadn't was obvious to both of them, but Goodnight was more and more disgusted with it and himself as time went on. Billy leans back, twisting uncomfortably but ignoring the fact for the moment as he threaded careful fingers through Goodnight's hair.

"If I wanted him shot, I would have done it, Goody." His voice was soft but blunt, and he took the opportunity to kiss Goodnight another time before changing back to a more comfortable position. 

It’s a matter of time before they both drift off.


End file.
